Alone Time
by Iellix
Summary: They relished their time alone, away from the group, when they didn't have to pretend anymore. When their walls could come down and their carefully crafted charade could be, however briefly, forgotten. S2 Djaq/Will fluff.


I decided to take a break from writing 'A Period of Adjustment' because the story, where I'm writing it at the moment, is extremely depressing. So I decided to write something ridiculously fluffy to cheer myself up! After all, a little bit of silly, sweet, pointless fluffiness is always nice to read. Who needs a plot? I hope you like reading it as much as I liked writing it. This story takes place sometime during the S2, but you can use your imagination; the exact time is never specified.

Small warning: This story does have some—ahem—mature material in it. It's hardly lemon by any means, and certainly doesn't merit an 'M'-rating, but it _is_ the littlest bit on the graphic side, and this is your warning.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters that I'm writing about. The BBC does. I'm only borrowing them.

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They _relished_ this time away from the group, alone together, when they didn't have to pretend anymore.

Both Djaq and Will loved the gang and the people in it with all their hearts—they were family, after all, even _better_ than family, and they were comrades in arms, and warriors in their shared cause. They loved the familiarity and the friendship. There were no better people in the world than Robin Hood and his band of outlaws.

But that didn't stop them from wanting some time by themselves, so they didn't have to maintain the carefully put-together illusion anymore. The second they were alone, when nobody else was around and only the trees in the forest could see them, they'd drop their bundles of food and goods and gold for deliveries and crumble into each other's arms, and dissolve right away into hot kisses and warm hands.

They loved each other, if not _more_ than the rest of the group than at least clearly _differently_ than the rest of the group. To each other, they were not simply other members of the gang; Djaq was not 'just one of the lads' to him and Will was not the innocent boy-carpenter to her. They couldn't think of each other that way. That was what love did to people—it changed perceptions.

Will thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world—a _woman,_ and always a _woman._ He never thought of her as just another one of the lads, he told her. He just couldn't do it, and _not_ for the rather obvious reason of having seen her chest when they first met.

"And don't think that's how it started, either," he'd assured her. His voice was so soft and low, warm and gentle. He'd reached out and tentatively brushed her hair behind her ear and rested his palm on her cheek. Every tiny touch, every little action of his made her legs go all watery and made her heart flutter wildly like an excited bird in her chest. "It's because… because you're _you._ You're smart and you're strong and you're clever and you're beautiful. My god, you're beautiful…"

When other men said things like that, they always came off as less than sincere, their motives shady at best—possibly wanting to get into a woman's bed, or earn some quick 'favours'. But Will Scarlett wasn't like that. The way he spoke, unsure of himself at first and slowly gaining confidence as he talked, and his beautifully expressive eyes all betrayed an almost heart-breaking sincerity. Everything he said, he meant with _all_ of his heart. He was always earnest and sincere in all that he did. That confession had been no different.

They hadn't _planned_ for it that night, caught in a storm and hunkering down in a little cramped cave around a smoky fire and praying that they could survive to morning. They sat close together, sharing one another's cloaks and trying to stay warm. When she thought he was asleep, she kissed his cheek, and when he opened his eyes she was so embarrassed and so afraid that she contemplated leaving the cave and swimming back to Acre.

And then the confessions had spilled forth from there. Neither of them knew _why_ they decided that then and there was the right place to gulch forth their deep, dark secrets, but once they'd begun they couldn't simply _stop._ It was all or nothing, and they must have separately decided that they were tired of keeping the secret.

"I love you, too," she told him when he quieted. "You are the smartest man I have ever met. You are the most _beautiful_ man I have ever met. I love that you are strong, and you are brave and true, and you fight for what you believe in. I… I cannot help it. It is impossible not to fall in love with you."

They spent that night together, curiously warm in that small, small cave with their fire choking in the rain that blew inside. But they held each other close and slept happily, and in the morning they were ecstatic to realize that it _wasn't_ a dream.

But the gang depended on equality. They were Robin Hood. The forest was an equalizer, stripped them of all of their differences so that they were all the same. They had to be, to live as they did and do what they did. So they kept their fledgling love a secret from the rest of the gang. They had to.

So they _lived_ for the time they had alone, and in between expressed their love in more subtle and quiet ways. They sat close to each other at mealtimes and when they were doing chores—close enough to reach out and touch the other if they wanted to, but far enough away not to rouse any suspicion. They went with each other when the other had some run or delivery to make. They communicated in tiny touches, silent looks, coded words. They fought at each other's backs—let the others think it was because they had the best tactical advantage covering one another that way; to Will and Djaq, they fought fiercely to protect the person they loved.

But when they were alone, their self-imposed boundaries and walls and the charade they maintained for the benefit of their friends and nobody else all fell away and disappeared and they could be giddy and in love.

When Robin asked Will to make a delivery to the furthest reaches of their influence, Djaq felt a familiar tingle of excitement burn and flare in her belly. At last, time alone! It had been weeks since she'd had a chance to hold him and feel his kiss and… too excited, now. She kept it under control with a well-seasoned self-control and pretended to have only the vaguest tangential interest in his assignment.

"Any volunteers to go with him?" Robin asked, looking around the rest of the camp to see if there were any volunteers. His eyes seemed to rest longer than usual on Djaq, but she shrugged it off at the time. "Djaq, why don't you go with him?"

She shrugged. "I have things to do here. I have to collect things to make medicine. Though…" she sat back and tapped her chin in carefully staged mock-thoughtfulness. "It has been a while since we have been to that village. I expect I should have a look around to see if anybody needs doctoring."

Robin had nodded, giving her a hint of that cocky half-grin.

"It's late already," he told them as he laden them down with packs and bundles. "There is a little extra food in here—if it takes a long time and you can't get back before nightfall, make camp somewhere warm and come back in the morning."

Sometimes the way their leader spoke made her _seriously_ wonder if he didn't somehow _know_ of their love. It concerned her—perhaps the others could figure it out, too? But then, perhaps not. And maybe he was just guessing. That's what she told herself, anyway.

So they set off, making idle talk about the things they'd have to do once they arrived at Longcreek Village. The talk stopped once they were out of earshot, but they didn't stop walking and they didn't even dare join hands until they were well away.

A mile—that was their agreed-upon rule, the safe distance. When they were a mile away from the camp, they figured they would be safely far enough away that they could drop their self-restraint.

They'd looked around and made sure they were alone and then dropped those precious bundles of food and flung themselves at each other. He hoisted her up and held her with his arms underneath her backside; she gripped him around his hips with her legs and buried her fingers in his hair. They kissed hotly, feverishly, tongues daringly darting out to taste one another. Over these long months as their secret love quietly flourished, they grew more and more daring. Mouths moved away from the relative safety of lips and faces to necks, chests, stomachs; their hands explored each other, tentatively at first and then boldly touching and feeling.

They couldn't do much before they'd made their rounds at Longcreek, so the kisses stopped and she reluctantly withdrew her hands from his trousers and they walked hand-in-hand all the way to the village and distributed their goods.

Djaq checked the locals for their maladies, treated them, and made sure they were all as clean as they could be so nobody would _become_ ill. Will went around asking if anybody had any leaky roofs, wobbly tables, or broken carts for him to fix. They busied themselves as much as they could, delayed and stalled and kept in the village until they _knew_ for certain that they would never make it back to camp before nightfall. That had been their plan. The more time they could have alone after, the better. Oh, the better.

They left just as the sun was beginning to turn orange-red. They linked hands again and walked slowly, pausing now and then so Djaq could back him into a tree and kiss him again. She loved kissing him, the way he always somehow looked so sweetly and adorably surprised whenever she sprang on him and the little whimpers he'd make when she grew forceful. It never took long for him to kiss her back and himself grow quite vigorous, but no matter what he did his mouth was always soft and warm and gentle and tender. He could stop her knees from working with one kiss, and stop her _mind_ working with just one more. She decided that if it was at all possible, she'd survive on his kisses alone. She could never get enough.

He reached up her shirt and squeezed one breast _just_ hard enough to shock her—she groaned so loudly that she scared the birds out of the tree he'd backed her into. She sucked his earlobe into her mouth and kissed the soft spot just under his ear, while her hand lifted his shirt and her fingers tickled _wickedly_ down his stomach.

The sounds of distant horses startled them into becoming aware of their surroundings, and they reluctantly parted—this was not the time or the place, they acknowledged silently, with simultaneous frustrated growls, and they continued on.

Then they found a suitably isolated and comfortably warm cave nestled at what was once the bank of a river that had long since receded. It was plenty big, but they never needed much room when they stayed overnight somewhere. They built a fire and Djaq caught some fish, and they ate that along with the bread and cheese that Robin had left for them to have out of the food parcels.

When the sun set, it became cold, and they huddled close and settled inside the cave just as the wind picked up. She was damn glad for the cold—it gave them a wonderful excuse to get as close as possible.

Only they didn't need excuses, not here.

They made love that night. It wasn't their first time—that had been not long after their initial confession of love. They'd grown to know each other's bodies very well since then, knowing how to please the other and themselves. She rolled him over and pinned his hands over his head, nipped his ears and his neck and kissed his chest. She rolled her hips slowly and heard him moan her name and watched his eyes roll back in his head.

When he was spent, she rolled off of him and let him catch his breath; he lazily and heavily rose up to lay on his side, looking down at her with glazed, half-lidded eyes and that sweetly loopy and crooked smile on his lips that he always had when he'd come back down from his release.

"I love you," he whispered close to her mouth before he kissed her again, a long and hot and sweet kiss that teased her lips until she felt like she was just going to dissolve right there into the ground.

"Love you," Djaq echoed. She nuzzled his cheek and kissed him again, twined her arms around his neck, and twirled her fingers in the soft, short baby-hairs at the back of his neck. She rolled her hips again, gentler this time, hoping he would be ready to go again soon; she hadn't finished yet, so _she_ certainly was.

And he knew. He always knew—that was one of the things she loved so much about him, that he just seemed to _know_ exactly what she wanted or needed, or sometimes what was going on inside her _head. _Sometimes it was like he could hear her very thoughts. No other person in the world knew the woman she was better than he did. She knew _him_ just as well, too. She could read Will almost better than she'd ever been able to read anybody before. There were bad things along with the good, too. She wasn't blinded to those and neither was he, and they loved each other wholly and fully anyway despite—or perhaps even _because_—of their faults. They fit so well together, like their god had designed them each specifically to be with the other.

She heard him chuckle and felt the gentle vibration in his chest, and he kissed her again, just as deep and wonderful as he did before. His free hand cupped her cheek and then his fingers traced down and across her jaw and then down her neck, tickling her. She felt goosebumps rise as he went, slowly, slowly. His lips followed the path his fingers took, down her jaw and her neck and across her collarbones. He flicked his tongue over one nipple, sending white-hot sparks up the back of her neck; his hand cupped the other breast gentle and tender and his thumb rubbed that nipple until it peaked.

She sighed shallowly and closed her eyes, wriggled back into their piled-up cloaks on the ground underneath her.

The hand moved again, lower, flattened over her stomach and going down, down. He traced circles around her navel before going further down and cupped her sex gently. His hands were big, that was one of the first things she'd noticed about him when they met. They were work-worn and rough, callused from many years in his trade as a carpenter. And she'd learned that those hands could do wonderful things to her.

He knew what to do and how to please her, and she sighed his name into his kiss as the pleasure came over her in waves. He was far more confident with himself with her now than he'd been at first. She'd had to calm him down that first time, he was so nervous and unsure of himself that he was shaking, and not at all sure what to do, and she talked him soothingly through it. She wasn't a virgin, but he was, and she realized that intimidated him. Now he'd gotten far better-assured, she told him what she liked, and he knew how to do it. But in truth he could have done absolutely _anything_ he liked to her and her body would have craved more anyway, just because it was Will, and _he_ was touching her.

When her body relaxed, she opened her eyes and looked into his—he had the most beautiful eyes, deep and expressive and pale green—and she knew she looked just as loopy then as he had just moments before. She arched up and kissed him again.

They made love once more—she let him have the dominant position and they climaxed both of them that time, then he collapsed into a heap on top of her. They kept that position a long time and she absolutely did _not_ want to move. She stroked his hair while he breathed heavily into her neck and grunted softly every so often.

They were both sweaty and slick and they began to shiver, and reluctantly they gave up their position in favour of moving towards the back of the cave and curling up facing each other, her face against his neck and his warm breath stirring her hair, their arms and legs a sweaty tangle and the rest of them pressed firmly together and trying to do away with that annoying empty air between them.

"I love you—I _love_ you," she whispered between soft little kisses on his neck and his shoulder as they slowly drifted off to sleep.

Morning dawned colder still, a fine dusting of frost on the ground around their temporary bedchamber. She was so warm and comfy and _wonderful_ here that she wanted time to stop so they could stay here forever.

Will had shifted position at some point during the night and was now on his stomach, partially on top of her, crushing her into the ground. His breath warmed her face—the rest of him was nice and warm, too, and just the tiniest bit sweaty still from the night before. He smelled good, like warmth and sleep and sex and Will. She gripped his hand in hers and kissed it slowly before clutching the whole arm in her arms and hugging it close.

They could sleep here all day, she thought as she sighed happily and contentedly. Just as long as they got back to the camp _at some point_ before the following day, Robin wouldn't bother about it and if anybody questioned them as to their late arrival time they could make up some excuse about getting held up waiting for something or other. The others'd believe that—they had no reason to suspect anything else.

She didn't know how long she'd just lay there—minutes, hours, days—but she became aware that he, too, was awake when she felt his fingers and their rough calluses trailing feather-light up and down her side and making her whole body come out in goosebumps.

He flattened his broad, warm hand on her stomach, stroked down her abdomen and up to her chest and back again. He kissed her shoulder and her neck and her cheek, long warm kisses with his lips lingering on her skin. She tilted her head so he could have more of her neck and he kissed slowly down her throat.

She sighed contentedly and brushed her fingers through his hair—he'd cropped it short and there was less for her to grab at now. She used to be able to grasp him by the back of his hair and lead him to wherever she wanted him to go, but not anymore. He still went where she wanted, though; by now, he knew.

His hand slowly came higher, coming to a stop just under her breasts. He kissed down her neck and past her collarbone and between her breasts. She squirmed under his mouth as he lipped one breast. Excitement prickled in her chest and slick heat gathered between her thighs. They did _not_ get these chances nearly often enough, the chance to be all alone together for long enough to do more than scrabble hastily under one another's clothing for a quick fondle—after all, they couldn't stay out overnight every time they went out together, otherwise the rest of the gang would put the pieces together and their secret would be exposed, and they seldom did it— so whenever they _were _together and alone long enough to have sex, she always wanted to make the most of it that she could.

She pulled him back up to her again and wound her arms around his neck and kissed him hotly; she felt him smile against her lips and she purred softly. She waited for his touch, but it never came. She wriggled and rolled her hips, but it didn't work. He just kissed her again and nipped gently at her lower lip.

"Shouldn't start something we don't have time to finish," he warned.

She sighed in frustration, but settled back onto the ground—he was right, and she _hated_ that. "I know," she huffed. "We cannot stay here all day. They will notice we are missing."

"Yip." He nuzzled her neck. "I still wish we could stay, though."

"Me too."

She lifted her head to look outside. The light was still purple and soft—it was early still, just after dawn, and they wouldn't have to be on their way for at least a little while yet. So they had jus a morsel more time.

He rolled onto his side and tucked her into the curve of his body, curled up around her. They drifted in and out of sleep until sunrise, when they trotted down to the water's edge to clean off in the icy-cold water.

They couldn't leave any evidence, had to wash away all of the saliva and sweat and the smell of sex. His cheeks were pink from washing and he shivered all over from the cold. She kissed his trembling lips and fastened his cloak around his shoulders.

"Thank you," he whispered. Then he kissed her forehead and rumpled her hair—it was growing in longer and was easier and much more fun to muss up, according to Will—and they set off, hand-in-hand on the long trail back to the camp.

They exchanged one last, swift kiss when they came to the one-mile mark, and they stepped apart. The masks came back on, the restraints went back up, and when they walked into camp together they made their apologies and acted as if they were miffed that they couldn't get back to camp before nightfall last night.

They pretended again.

Djaq and Will relished the time they had alone, when they didn't _have to_ pretend there was nothing special about each other, and they didn't _have to_ lie to their friends. But Sherwood Forest was the great equalizer, and made them all the same, so for now they had to maintain the charade.

Eventually a time would come when there was no war and no Sherriff, and justice once again reigned in England, when they didn't all have to be Robin Hood anymore, when _Robin_ didn't have to be Robin Hood anymore. That was when the equality in the forest wasn't needed anymore, and then the charade would end for the last time and they'd never have to pretend again.

Until then, they waited for those rare chances to be alone, for their precious time together.

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Fluff! Glorious fluff! I had to write it, and I hope you liked reading it. Feedback is, as always, greatly appreciated—but not demanded.


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